getting in touch

I got a comment today on my blog that made me see things in a little different light. In truth it is just a tiny slant on a way of thinking, but enough of one that it has kinda rocked my world. Artistic Avenjer (If you like superheroes and occasionally hot/sometimes artistically naked superhero men, check out his blog, fantastic—you can see it on the blogs I follow) said this: “I wanted it not so much for you to be angry at him, just from that anger to realize how much he hurt and devalued you. And pissed all over your relationship.” In combination with what he and I both talked about in regards to not choosing to do the work on our relationship—taking the easy way out, like every other gay boy out there and most of the straight ones—it actually did trigger my anger. He truly loved me, truly. Yet somehow, he didn’t find me worthy of putting in the work, making the sacrifice that all relationships take. Our years together deserved better. Our amazing years deserved better. I deserved better. He deserved better. That actually does make me angry for me and for him. For us. We were phenomenal together 90% of the time, if not more. That deserved more than what happened. I don’t need to write all that my mind and heart of done with that today, but I hope it lasts. The anger, if I can hold onto it, is a bit freeing. Thanks, AA.

The highlight of today—indeed the past many, many weeks—was walking the dogs in the middle of a lightening, thunder, rain, hail storm. We were completely drenched. While everyone scurried around us and people looked from their cars and porches, we walked slowly, I danced to some fitting songs from Glee. I let some of the anger be what it is. Some of the grief be what it is. I let the water flow over me, beautiful, cold, renewing. I dared the lightening to strike. I didn’t give a flying fuck what one person was thinking as they watched this short, redheaded fag do his thing in the rain.